


Promise To Treasure Me.

by SS98



Series: Promise. [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom Louis, Dominant Harry, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Powerbottom Louis, Rugby Player Harry, Sassy Louis, Smut, Top Harry, True Love, University Student Harry, University Student Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 16:25:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11361159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SS98/pseuds/SS98
Summary: “Leave me the Hell alone, Harry.” Louis grumbled; nobody needed a seer to sense his irritation. The boy had just gotten home from a poorly scheduled lecture on campus, to find his best friend’s brother also in the elevator.Unfortunately for him, Harry is miles of persistence stuffed into a six foot three tattooed body that was the face of their university’s rugby team. Everyone loved him for his ability to dominate a game as the captain, and the dean thought Harry’s four year degree would not be enough. Harry is also the older brother to the only friend Louis had through high school, Gemma, which meant his shared apartment had to be opened up to this ghastly character as well.“You do not get to insult me publicly and walk off.” Harry all but growled when he tried cornering Louis against the refrigerator.





	Promise To Treasure Me.

“Leave me the Hell alone, Harry.” Louis grumbled; nobody needed a seer to sense his irritation. The boy had just gotten home from a poorly scheduled lecture on campus, to find his best friend’s brother also in the elevator.

Unfortunately for him, Harry is miles of persistence stuffed into a six foot three tattooed body that was the face of their university’s rugby team _._ Everyone loved him for his ability to dominate a game as the captain, and the dean thought Harry’s four year degree would not be enough. Harry is also the older brother to the only friend Louis had through high school, Gemma, which meant his shared apartment had to be opened up to this ghastly character as well.

“You do not get to insult me publicly and walk off.” Harry all but growled when he tried cornering Louis against the refrigerator.

His victim turned around and glared at the towering man obstructing his escape. “I did not insult you.”

Harry stopped the boy from hitting him in the chest by grabbing Louis’ wrist and holding onto the resistant other. “Muttering _prick_ under your breath in a lift with three other people before running out is disrespectful, kitten.”

“I’m not sorry.” Louis twisted his arm free and gracelessly shouldered his way free. “Don’t call me kitten.”

“I don’t think so.” Harry allowed Louis momentary freedom before he turned around and hauled the boy off the ground to throw over his shoulder. “Go easy on me for once up- _Ow fuck._ ”

Louis would be a disgrace to his childhood reputation if he granted Harry that wish. He shouted and squirmed whilst tugging on the lumbering male’s hair with a punishing grip. “Stop touching me, you ape.”

Harry strode through the short corridor of the flat to Louis’ bedroom where he pushed open the door whilst still harbouring the world’s most restless boy. “You gonna fuck yourself tonight then?”

The word ‘dating’ disgusted Louis and he never refrained from lecturing someone who made the mistake of labelling him and Harry as such. Neither of them were pre-pubescent teenagers seeking social validation by means of being attached at the hip while others gawked or nodded approvingly. _Oh, you and Styles are dating? Didn’t know you were seeing anybody._ Harry’s seen Louis go at one too many people before he stepped in and carried a drunken Louis away to anywhere without strangers.

They were not dating to anyone who risked their lives by asking, but there was an unspoken commitment nonetheless.

“Yes.” Louis tried to knee Harry in the face but he didn’t really stand a chance when the man caught his thighs and dumped him onto the bed. He rolled onto his front and kicked off his shoes while Harry sat on the edge of it. “You’re taking me to that concert Gems was talking about, by the way.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Harry mused, shamelessly smacking the curve of Louis’ behind as he laid down. “When is it?”

Louis did get a kick in then. “What do you mean? It’s tonight.”

“Fuck, kitten.” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, letting his eyelids close on their own accord. “I’m exhausted.”

“So?” Louis was yawning too. “I told you about the concert two weeks ago.”

Harry turned to look Louis in the eye when he displayed his exasperation. “You did not.”

“Did to.” Louis isn’t sure half the time why he’s arguing, just that he is. He hears the frontdoor unlock to signal Gemma’s return and shouts for her even with Harry’s ear two inches from his lips. “Gemma!”

“What?” The third occupant of the apartment was working the afternoon shift at the same bar and grill Louis’ employed at.

She stands in the doorway with one hand clutching the doorknob and the other covering her eyes; she won’t be taking any chances after the numerous times she’s walked in on their scandalous affairs.

“Hey Gemma.” Harry greets his sister with a short three-finger wave.

“Big brother.” Gemma would be scowling whether it’s visible or not behind her palm.

Harry barely notices when Louis starts pointlessly nibbling on his earlobe anymore, but he always comes to recognise it somehow. “How was work?”

“Same as always.” Gemma sagged against the doorway in the waitress uniform and shrugged. “Jeff was tending the bar so that was fun.”

“I volunteered to pay him a visit for you.” Harry possesses his fair share of protectiveness over a few people in his life, but he tried not to be overbearing. He taught Gemma to defend herself in his early boxing days and he trusted that she could handle herself.

“Thanks but I’ve got it.” Gemma assured. “Why am I here?”

“Kitten.” Harry patted Louis’ hip where the boy had probably fallen asleep. “Why did you call Gemma?”

Louis proved him wrong by slapping the man’s arm away from his lower hips but winding the limb around his waist before Harry could withdraw. He wanted to be held, just not anywhere near his bottom right now. There’s enough courage left in Louis to admit he’s frequently puzzled by Harry’s willingness to observe and learn his habits rather than abandon him like his two other boyfriends had.

“When did I tell Harry about the concert?” Louis asked boldly, tracing the little serpent tattoo under Harry’s sharp jawline.

Gemma had lowered her hand by then. “Tonight’s one?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t know. You coming, Haz?” She asked from further away now, sounding as though she’d gone into her bedroom with the door open.

Her brother was going to deny it and maybe earn himself a nap before tomorrow morning when he’s supposed to meet their coach on the field at seven. Harry prides himself in not being easily persuaded, but he also never had a minx like Louis climb onto his lap and roll his hips temptingly.

“Next time, Lou.” Harry was only ever truly tired when he said no to Louis twice, and the latter understood that.

“Okay.” Louis pulled Harry upright by the cross pendant of his chain and connected their lips blindly, winding his arms around the man’s shoulders so he could lean forward. “You have to take care of me in the shower though.”

Harry groaned at that. He loved wet Louis and naked Louis; combining those two images made for a fantasy he was powerless against. With sure hands he cupped Louis’ bottom and stood with the boy clinging to his torso. Louis let Harry lick into his mouth to deepen their kiss and carry him into the adjoining bathroom where he might be able to relieve himself of some clothing.

“Lou, kitten.” Harry often worked slower than Louis appreciated but today he was as desperate to feel the boy’s skin, have their bodies irrevocably wrapped around one another. “You have to cooperate with me here.”

Louis surprises him by wordlessly acquiescing, and stripping off his shirt so Harry’s lips might hover to a lower point. He had sensitive nipples that Harry loved paying attention to; they were triggers to Louis’ climax or a medium of absolute irritation. Harry would sometimes wake Louis up just latching his mouth onto one of the dusty pink nubs, teasing and mistreating until the owner bothered to stir.

Harry is well licensed in the department of caring for Louis; he needs to encouragement to pin the boy against the tiled wall in the shower and first have his way with him. Louis is probably the loudest, most pragmatic person Harry’s ever going to meet but in private he never failed to astonish the man with how pliant he can be.

Breathy whimpers fell from Louis’ cherry pink lips until Harry smothered them in a kiss which left Louis clawing at his back for air at times. Harry would smirk at the lovely moans he gets to hear when buried deep in the confines of Louis’ warmth, pausing ever so often to absorb the pleas that lace Louis’ choked little whines. It sounded as though he was about to beg each time just to have Harry pound home inside him but never uttered a word because he trusted Harry to not pain him with anticipation.

“Hey.” Harry nudged Louis’ cheek with the tip of his nose, leaning forward slightly so the boy jerked and gasped. He was undoubtedly still sensitive. “You with me, kitten?”

“Yeah.” Louis crossed his ankles at Harry’s back and arched his back in a stretch. He blinked away the water that clumped his eyelashes and grinned. “Thanks for that.”

Harry chuckled against Louis’ throat, still fighting to regain some of his steadiness. “Sure thing.”

Louis sunk into Harry’s arms, giving his entire weight to the man’s current poor balance. “When can I call you a taxi?”

“Sorry, kitten.” Harry spoke against the red bruise on Louis’ skin that’s going to earn him a slap at one point. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His companion gasped, all sixties theatrics and feigned panic. “What will my husband say?”

Harry scoffed condescendingly at the game Louis posed; he straightened his spine and was careful of pulling free from Louis’ body. He challenged himself not to look down between them where the boy had to be leaking all over his thighs. “The bastard can try taking you from me. He won’t be succeeding.”

Louis’ eyes gleamed with mischief. “Remember that time you beat up Tommy from Econ for me?”

For what it’s worth, Harry is not a violent person. He plays a bloody sport where there are often broken bones and ruptured ligaments, but off the field he tries to not let his temper get the best of him. There is one time he failed in that mission, when foolish Tommy stood in the same circle as Harry and spoke disgusting lies about Louis.

“When will you stop bringing that up?” Harry is not ashamed of his motivation behind almost sending Tommy to the hospital, just that he’d broken his silent promise as an advocate of word over bloodshed.

“You were defending my honour.” Louis reminded him. “If you ever feel guilty, just remember that you took me to prom twice and that got you laid just as many times.”

Being in different years allowed them that extravagance, and Harry hasn’t doubted that it’s going to remain a proud memory of his. Louis had demanded a corsage the first year, before making Harry use it in the next. Harry could never decide which year was the best.

“I do prefer when you had to ask me.” He admits to his companion with a bemused smirk. “You walked into my house with a rose you stole from your mother’s garden and told if I didn’t say yes you’d post our sex-tape online.”

Louis smiled fondly at the memory. “We didn’t even have a sex-tape.”

“I knew that but who else would have taken you?” Harry challenged, already at work with shampooing Louis’ hair. “You had instilled fear in everyone at our school.”

“You considered turning me down?” Louis has never looked so outraged and harmless simultaneously as an effect of the foam swathing his head. “You really are a jerk.”

“No, my kitten.” Harry directed Louis to stand underneath the shower’ spray. “I’d never say no to you.”

Louis laughed, bright-eyed and fidgety where Harry held him secured. “You just said no to me twenty minutes ago.”

Harry groaned in mild frustration. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Sure.” Louis offered him a sobered smile and wink. “Can I come to your game on Friday?”

It was a no brainer for Harry. “Absolutely not.”

Louis punched Harry’s left pectoral with a closed fist, hating that his vengeance wasn’t enough to do more than amuse the man. “Why the Hell not?”

“Kitten.” Harry grabbed the body gel from behind Louis and stole a kiss from the angered boy. “If you promise not to yell at our coach for pulling me out or make pink posters, then sure.”

“We lost the game he pulled you out of.” Louis pointed out fairly. They’d had a temporary coach from another state that week and he was a monster of a man with no compassion. “Pink is my favourite colour, mind you.”

“It isn’t.” Harry sighed. “I would love to have my boy at my games, you know.”

“Maybe you should ask him then.” Louis rolled his eyes, ending in a shriek of laughter when Harry sweeps his feet off the floor with frightful agility. “Fine. I won’t yell at anyone but you can’t stop my posters.”

“Fair enough.” Harry agreed, locking his pinkie finger with Louis’ when it is offered. “Let’s finish up here before we turn into prunes.”

*    *    *    *    *

Louis’ been at work from four o’clock in the afternoon and just received a phonecall from Gemma asking him to cover her tables until she got in. That left him and another waitress, Angie, to handle thirty-five tables with equally demanding and impatient out-of-towners. Sometimes Louis wished this establishment wasn’t so renowned for its barbequed ribs and spicy onion rings, but then he remembered that he had bills to pay and not enough privilege to be picky.

“Where are my fries, Tony?” Louis stopped by the cook’s window with a new order. “I need one of your special fry-up’s and chicken-fried steak with a side of potato wedges.”

Tony is their Cajun culinary expert who brought _Jefferson’s B &G _out of the gutter six years ago. He loves to pearl necklaces and fishnets, which were complemented by Tony’s inability to handle ill-mannered people.

“Your fries, sugar.” Tony slid a basket of crisp chips across to Louis with a smaller bowl of ranch dressing.

Louis put the order on his tray and spun around with practised precision that he’s mastered after a year of working here. He swung by Jim’s post at the bar for a pint of beer that table number four requested. People waited at the door awkwardly to be seated and Louis suspected they weren’t local just by that; everyone knew that this place was the least formal.

“Find a seat anywhere.” He told them with a welcoming smile while unloading his tray at the necessary table.

The noise created as a result of a capacity number of patrons helped keep Louis on the ground during his working hours. Often he’d drift off when business was slower, but since he started taking the dinner shift there was no room for daydreaming. He hated silence and how vulnerable he was towards lingering in the cesspit that harboured his thoughts.

Table number six wanted more ketchup and number eighteen asked for a double bacon cheese burger with onion rings. Louis ignored the elderly hillbilly whose first time it was here and accorded neither him nor Angie any respect, choosing to slam his fist on the table and shout for attention. There was much of an existing din so both servers felt no guilt in easily sidestepping him.

Louis brought everyone their food and cleared the tables that were abandoned, taking the half-empty condiment bottles to the bar where they’d be hidden until he could do closing up at the end of the night. He was nudged by Jim when their manager came out to handle the only uncivilised customer here tonight; Louis might have watched for longer for a laugh had tables twelve and twenty called him aside for separate needs. He had to scribble the latter’s order for a lime milkshake and peach iced tea on his arm because he ran out of pages in his notepad. The box of stationery was ironically in the kitchen next to the walk-in refrigerator because nobody liked going into their manager’s office for any reason. Louis stuffed an extra pen and notepad into the pocket of his apron before walking out, balancing two brimming glasses in his hands.

“Lou?” Angie came to him when he was standing beside the cook’s window, red in the face and looking anxious. “Can you take table nine for me?”

“Sure. Why?” Louis rolled his shoulders to ease their stiffness.

Angie chewed her lip. “They’re college boys.”

“Ah.” Louis laughed under his breath, but he nodded with understanding. “The worst evil. You’ve got tables thirteen and thirty from me, yeah?”

“Deal.” Angie’s still in high school and many things scared her about being employed here, the customers worst of all. Louis and Gemma often had to swap tables with her to make sure she still earned her pay and experience, whilst making things a little easier for her.

Louis took a swig of the water bottle he’d kept at Jim’s bar for passing opportunities such as these. He clicked his pen before rounding the corner and concentrating on finding a clean order sheet in his notepad before stopping at table nine.

“Hi, I’m Louis and I’ll be your server tonight.” He glanced up from where he’d scribbled the table number on the page corner and found the booth filled with terribly familiar faces. In particular, there’s the broad-shouldered rugby captain with his hair in a bun and signature devilish grin. Louis glared at him especially before spinning around. “I think I’ll just call the police to handle this.”

Laughter broke out from the six rugby players committing to Louis’ place of work tonight, but just one dares to reach out and drag him back to them. Louis’ glower might have killed Harry if it could when he landed on the man’s lap, his legs splayed out in front of him.

“Hey there, kitten.” Harry kisses Louis’ neck with an obnoxiously loud smacking sound. He is all about embarrassing Louis in public as revenge for his personal mild humiliations from the boy.

The others chime in more jovially, chanting variations of Harry’s endearment to Louis. He is never one to blush where others can see it so Louis briefly leans into Harry as his greeting. “I’ll get the chef to spit in your food if you don’t tone it down, boys. This is where I get paid.”

They apologise after hearing that, holding their hands up in surrender. Harry’s amusement is conveyed in the rasp of his laughter, his fingers dancing aimlessly on Louis’ hip. “Your shift is almost over, right?”

Louis looked at the time on Harry’s obscenely sized wristwatch. “Yeah. I didn’t even notice.”

“Louis!” The echo of his employer’s voice made Louis cringe and peek out of the booth at where the man stood waiting for him. Earl is all business most of the time but even Angie could see that he wasn’t all that threatening presently. “I don’t think I pay you to sit on your boyfriend’s lap. Get back to work, son.”

Harry, ever the strapping Spartan, had to stand and apologise after Louis had shuffled out of the booth ahead of him. He raised his hand awkwardly and smiled regretfully. “It was my fault, Sir. Sorry about that.”

Earl was smiling when he shook his head and stalked off in the direction of his office where he’d hole himself up until the next disgruntled customer made a complaint. Louis couldn’t care less about the sniggers at table nine when he grabbed the front of Harry’s shirt and yanked him nearer for a single chaste kiss.

“Your manners are very sexy, you know.” Louis released Harry’s lapels and licked his lips, less seductive and more reminiscent.

“Thanks, baby.” Harry winked suavely at him, flashing Louis his most charming grin. The others from his table were waking up, signalling to their captain where they were headed. “Oh yeah. We’ll be at the pool tables, okay?”

Louis nodded, ripping the order sheet out of his book. “I’m sending Angie back. Don’t you dare let those heathens frighten her, Styles.”

*    *    *    *    *

Exams were going to bury Louis alive if he didn’t get on top of his semester modules by this weekend, which is why he took the breakfast shifts when _Jefferson’s B &G _hosted only its few regulars. He spent the entirety of Friday between  isles fourteen and fifteen in the library where he could use the plugpoint for his laptop and spread out his notes on the floor while he revised. Harry’s game is scheduled to commence in two hours and Louis had to be done with a fraction of the work by then.

Luck was on his side and he managed to complete what was necessary in a little less than the anticipated time frame. He packed up when the librarian started telling people they’re closing the reserved section, so Louis ran down to the photocopiers and ran out what he needed from the textbooks he could not take home. Studying for a degree in pharmacy is much more taxing than he was warned.

Campus was mostly vacant in lieu of the impending match. Louis could race through the quad and parking lot without bumping into a single wandering student, listening to just his shoes crunching gravel until the harsh tower lights sprung to life. The stands are swarming with patriotic college students who are up in arms against the visiting team from another state. Louis ignored their commotion in his sprint to the benches beside the field, offering the grumpy coach a malevolent grin as he dumped his belongings behind his seat.

People were already shouting the songs of their respective colleges, dressed and painted in the devoted colours. Louis had one of the jerseys Harry made for him as a ghost member of the team, and they all had _Styles_ printed in bold at the back above the captain’s number. He often wore them on non-game days just because the fabric was decently insulating and helped in combatting the occasionally frigid temperatures.

The match hasn’t begun by the looks of it. Harry has his team in a circle of genetically mountainous males, shouting his game plan to be heard above the ruckus of the surrounding crowd. Across the field to the right of Louis the opposition was doing the exact same thing except their official colours were maroon and black, which seemed also indicative of everyone’s mood. Louis frowned quizzically at their stoic coach and very abrasive team spirit; the captain seemed fond of grabbing others by the backs of their heads and screaming in their faces. It looked like someone was bound to burst a vein from all the pressure they endorsed.

Louis didn’t take to sitting much during Harry’s games as everything was high energy and he unknowingly tended to walk off his nervousness when things weren’t looking too great. A month ago he ended up gripping the coach’s arm so intensely that the man had to shake him off or risk cuts in his skin he did not want to explain to his wife.

Right now, Louis pays attention to everything but nothing in particular. He watches the scoreboard be reduced to zero and hears the cheerleaders shaking their ridiculous pom-pom instruments. Hooting from the other team drew his eye long enough for him to find a member of their team looking his way as well.

They’re tall, probably the tallest visitor on their grounds tonight, and naturally of an olive tan with the dark, wavy hair Louis likens to the Moroccan people. He doesn’t know what a Moroccan is doing all the way here but he’d like for whoever that stranger is, to stop staring at him. They raise their hand in a humble wave of two fingers and Louis has to look around him to see if they’re directing their distant greeting at someone else. Nobody but he seems to be focusing on the guy, and Louis turns back to find the estranged individual laughing at his behaviour.

“Hey.” Louis is snapped out of his bristled moment by Harry striding up to him with too much grace for a strapping rugby player. Harry follows Louis’ line of vision when he notices the unsettled manner of his boy’s stance, turning stiff with proportionate tension. “That’s Alex, their number eight.”

Louis isn’t sure why Harry’s telling him this but he nods anyway, turning back to the man directly in his company. “Ready to kick ass?”

Harry grabs Louis around his middle and plants a consequential kiss to the boy’s forehead. He’s not a primitive person when it comes to jealousy but that doesn’t mean Harry won’t follow his instincts. “We’re going to play a fair game, kitten.”

The whistle blew at Harry’s back and Louis found himself being awarded one last kiss that required too much lip biting for public viewers. He was a little flustered after Harry stopped arching him a little backwards and pecked his swollen lips modestly before running onto the field. There was nothing but the roaring of the crowd and the tingling of Louis’ skin to welcome Harry into the game.

*    *    *    *    *

A victory for Louis’ university meant the leading fraternity or sorority hosted a celebratory party in the name of their dominating rugby team. Such a circumstance was at hand but Louis did not fret an ounce because Harry turned down all invites so he could drive his boy home. He’d take Louis to his house rather than the boy’s flat as he understands Gemma will also be there for the weekend.

Louis had pounced on Harry the second the game concluded and nearly threw the captain off balance with the force of impact. He always had full faith in Harry’s abilities to land on his feet in any situation but each win still felt like a personal trophy as well. Harry had no problem congratulating and commending the rest of his team with Louis riding piggyback in the hubbub of activity they’d become.

It’s two hours to midnight when Harry presses a button that will shut the garage door after he parks, and Louis is swiftly climbing onto his lap. He has a sole burning purpose for catching the man off-guard, more than a little pleased to find that Harry barely hesitates before responding to his kiss. A moan slips out from Louis’ parted lips to Harry’s, their tongues corrupting one another’s with a sensual tangle.

Louis doesn’t know why he feels like getting Harry inside him is the reason he is breathing, and whines in complaint when he is denied that. Harry squeezes his bottom and gently pushes Louis in the direction of the back-seat, which the boy is glad to comply with. By the time he’d joined the back-seat, Louis has his pants off and is halfway through removing his shirt. Harry slams the door shut behind him before crawling into the confined space, attaching his lips instantly to Louis’ nipple to hear his boy mewl loudly.

He nibbles and suckles on the pebbled skin for as long as it takes to have Louis writhing beneath him, trapped between the leather seat and Harry’s body. Louis reaches for him when the sensations become too much and threaten to spill over, itching to have his underwear off but wanting Harry to do it. The air thickens between them, filling with a charged energy that mists the already tinted windows and has Harry fumbling to strip off his clothes.

Louis will never admit it but he revels in the feel of Harry’s muscles under his fingertips, taking every chance to run his hands down the man’s rippling back. He gasps at Harry sucking shamelessly on his neck when he tugs off his briefs, raising his hips  to aid the cause. Harry has the warmest hands even on days when Louis’ teeth won’t stop chattering, and when they’re opening Louis’ legs so he can settle between them it makes the latter feverish with want.

Harry’s knows Louis’ body and how to read the boy’s mind without a single spoken word. He can tell Louis doesn’t want anything time-consuming and would like to fall asleep thoroughly fucked, because his boy is otherwise more difficult to get riled up. Prepping Louis is no daunting task even with Louis  threatening to poison his toast if he doesn’t hurry up; Harry won’t be able to eat him out now so he fully plans to do so in the morning.

It’s no mystery why Louis is this desperate, and Harry makes him aware as he sinks slowly into him whilst fighting off his own impending orgasm. Louis moans, loud and high-pitched, at the back of his throat with every thick inch that enters him and forgets about the ache of being stretched so pleasurably. His nails bite into Harry’s shoulders while their mouths are connected in a sloppy union. Harry curses under his breath when he’s fully seated inside Louis, his voice a raspy sliver of what it usually is.

“Eyes open.” Harry manages to instruct. He marvels at the tender state of Louis’ untamed blue eyes, and moves in his first thrust while observing every twitch from the boy.

Louis’ leg hooks over the back of the seat and the other falls to the floor, because all he cares about Harry. Harry who is the welcome intruder to his body. Harry who moves against him with hard, deep thrusts of his hips that have Louis grappling to hold the car door  so he isn’t shoved further up the seat. The smell of sex and sound of clammy skin in contact should be nauseating but Louis’ come to learn that the messier it feels, the better it is.

“ _Fuck._ You feel so amazing, kitten.” Harry’s praise was throttled by his own imminent release and the strained willpower he’s exercising to restrain it.

Louis had recovered enough of his wit to retaliate whilst arching off the seat to have his chest flush against Harry’s front. His breath caught in his throat when Harry’s rhythm became sloppy, their hips gyrating sinfully together. “S-Sound like a virgin.”

Harry chuckles into Louis’ ear, slipping his arms under the boy’s weight to raise his lower half off the seat for a preferred angle. He felt the burn in his thighs from exerting himself tonight to excess but Harry honestly cannot see himself forfeiting an opportunity ever to be sheathed in Louis’ tightness. “Feels like it. Your ass is heaven.”

“Remember that.” Louis pulls Harry down for a kiss of messy proportions. He reaches a hand down between them but is caught before he can touch himself. _“Harry-”_

“Fuck no, kitten.” Harry pinned Louis’ arms away from where he could ease his own suffering. His strength had effortlessly dominated Louis’, and stopped thrusting with vigilant ferocity to roll into Louis’ body torturously. “This. Come from this.”

Louis’ thighs quivered as he felt his orgasm slam into him when he was most vulnerable. He cried out, clawing at Harry’s biceps when it sent him into an intense spiral where white spots exploded behind his closed eyelids and he could only breathe through his parted lips. Harry loved watching Louis reach his climax; his muscles would tense up before going completely lax. It was like being drawn further into where he was buried to the hilt already, and being used for Louis’ sweet pleasure.

When the storm had passed and Louis blinked his eyes open he was smiling dreamily up at Harry. He was hardly bothered by the addition of his release between them before pushing Harry back by his shoulders. The man would be confused if he hadn’t been engaging in heated activities with Louis for years. He sat back in the seat where Louis directs him to be, losing the air in his lungs when the boy straddles his thighs and takes him inside his body again.

Louis placed his palms on Harry’s heaving torso when he raised and lowered his hips, leaving the air between them laden with breathy gasps and whimpers. It’s always felt deeper when he was on top and Harry held onto his waist tightly enough to bruise. He wound his arms around Harry’s neck and continued to move his hips with agonising leisureliness, relishing in the man reaching around to grope his behind with both hands.

Harry starts to dictate Louis’ pace when he’s so close and desperate to reach his peak; he mouthed at Louis’ throat until damp remnants marked up the boy’s skin. A bit of Louis’ skin was caught between Harry’s teeth, livening up the complexion with blood rushing to the under surface. He muffles his shout that way when he comes, heightening Louis’ sensitivity by spurting within him.

Louis rarely allowed himself to be identified as cute but right then Harry would easily risk an arm to say that his boy is adorable. He was all flushed skin down to his belly button, swollen lips from their earlier abuse, and brilliantly illuminated cobalt orbs.

“Hey there pretty boy.” Harry brushed Louis’ lower lip with the pad of his thumb, laughing when his companion bit him. “You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”

“And you’re a dork.” Louis flicks one of Harry’s nipples with his finger. “The dorkiest dork to ever be.”

*    *    *    *    *

Louis finished pouring coffee into Mark Johnson’s mug and slid the cream jug to him, waiting to have it back before leaving. He’d hauled a stool from the bar to a counter in the back where he could see new customers but also trust that nobody will mess with his notes. Earl is not exceedingly strict with their food so Louis gets to cut himself a slice of cherry pie and pour himself a cup of tea without being reprimanded.

Revising with Tony’s reggae music in the background, Angie’s gossip with Gemma and Earl’s shouting into a receiver are conditions Louis has learned to ignore a year ago. Tony made him promise to finish the Spanish omelette made just for Louis, or he isn’t going anywhere until he does. Louis doesn’t know how obvious it is that he skipped breakfast at Harry’s place to drive here with the man’s SUV; he might have rode with Gemma if he didn’t have plans to stop by the only record store within driving distance.

Harry’s birthday is coming up next week and Louis has been waiting two weeks for Pink Floyd’s vinyl edition of _More_ to arrive. He also intended to buy the largest dildo he can find, wrap it in glittery paper so its shape was evident while resting on the vinyl. Louis is humbly self-entitled as the King of gift-giving.

At noon Louis packs up and doesn’t bother changing out of his uniform before rushing out to the parking lot. He drives for twenty-two minutes and parks haphazardly before running into _Khaya’s Records,_ going up to the familiar face at the counter with his credit card in hand. Louis usually hates spending his money but Harry’s not going to turn twenty-three again so he doesn’t flinch when signing off a three figure amount. The dildo is already hidden in Louis’ bathroom, still in its packaging.

It’s only at four in the evening that Louis leaves the public library to follow a text Harry sent and meet him at the campus grounds. Harry had rugby practice nearly all day and he asked Louis to come fetch him.

The college is a ghost town when Louis pulls up next to the freshly mowed field, and finds Harry chatting to the only other person present. He’s dressed in a faded green muscle shirt and jeans that are too tight, his hair still wet from his recent shower and gym bag slung over his shoulder. Louis takes the key out of the ignition but leaves the driver’s door gaping when he makes his way across the gravel path to Harry and Ian, their team’s right wing.

Ian walks off before Louis reaches them. Harry sees him coming and flashes Louis a stunning megawatt grin, holding his hand out for the boy to take from a distance. “There you are. Haven’t seen you all day, kitten.”

“You don’t pay me enough to stick around that much.” Louis pressed his chronically frozen fingers against Harry’s waist where they might even out. “You’re not my only client either.”

“I think you enjoy my company the most.” Harry coils his arm around Louis’ waist when they’re closer, pressing a light peck to his forehead.

“I do love your dick.” Louis rolls his eyes and withdraws so he might walk back to the vehicle with Harry in tow. “How did you get to campus?”

“Took the bus.” Harry sniffed against the breeze whipping around them

Louis was pouting after hearing that. He threw the keys and Harry snatched them before their downfall. “Should I apologise?”

“No, kitten.” Harry laughed huskily, the way he did when he was susceptible to the cold after a shower. “If you recall, you asked me in the morning if you could take my keys.”

“Yeah but-”

“It’s _fine._ ” Harry silenced Louis by stealing a kiss with too much self-confidence conducting his smirk. “Sorry to be rude but I’d like to go home now.”

*    *    *    *    *

The weekend proved to be most productive for Louis. He got the majority of his revision down and celebrated by dancing with no coordination on Harry’s bed while the owner looked on, close to busting a vein with his laughter. By Monday Louis was ready to return to his own apartment with nothing more on his schedule than work, lectures and Harry’s party on Wednesday.

“I don’t trust you enough for that, Styles.” Louis was wearing Harry’s ratty university sweater from first year, and speaking above the music emanating from the stereo system against the wall. Harry loved to pretend like they still resided in the sixties.

Harry stood three feet from the foot of the bed in his low hanging sweats and arms outstretched. “Come on, baby. I won’t drop you.”

Louis was not going to play the cheerleader by leaping off the bed and hoping Harry catches him before he cracks open his skull. He turns around, shimmying his hips in tandem with the music. “Stop standing there like a scarecrow, will you?”

“Have faith in me, kitten.” Harry chided guiltlessly, not at all oblivious to Louis’ frame donning just underwear and his jumper.

Something must have worn Louis down in the next fifteen minutes because he sighed irritably and  jumped off the bed, directionless and slightly anxious. He doesn’t reward Harry much when the man catches him by the backs of his thighs, putting him at a foot or so higher than Harry. Louis tugs on Harry’s hair when he’s met with a cocky grin, supporting his weight by pressing down on his carrier’s shoulders.

“It’s raining.” He states softly. One would discover that Louis adores rainy weather if one bothered to observe him for long enough.

Harry was about to respond when his bedroom door swung open to reveal Gemma at the mercy of an ice cream bowl. She had curlers in her hair and fuzzy socks on her feet. “H, you forgot to take out the trash.”

“Right, sorry.” Harry lowered Louis to the floor with a kiss to the boy’s cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

Louis followed him as far as the kitchen to get his own serving of ice cream. He put salted caramel and chocolate brownie in the same bowl, dashed the mixture with extra sprinkles and stuck a wafer between them. On his way to the living room Louis got to giggle at Harry’s dripping state re-entering the house from dumping the trash outside, exaggerated shivers and teeth chattering earning the man some sympathy.

“I sleep in that room so don’t give it that damp smell please.” Louis mercifully fed Harry a spoonful of his messy sundae and gave the man’s plump lips a kiss.

When Harry joined Louis in the lounge it was to the dialogue of _City Slickers_ starring Billy Crystal and all the curtains drawn so illuminated warmth came only from the fireplace. Harry had dried his hair and given it more volume that leaving it untended might have, so that forced him into tying it back. Louis drew back the blanket he was using to let Harry join him, scooting a little further back so Harry could fit.

“Don’t get sick on me.” He warned the other male steadily.

Harry hissed when Louis’ cold feet landed on his thighs, knowing fully well as he massaged them through Louis’ socks that it would do nothing to warm them up. “I’ll try my best, kitten.”

*    *    *    *    *

“God damn it! I told you not to get sick on me, Styles.” Louis wasn’t really angry when he saw Harry in the cafeteria on Tuesday.

Harry had been at the pool tables with some friends who Louis couldn’t remember the names of, and from a mile away his winces were visible. He handed his stick to someone else when Louis accused him of poor health. “I’m not sick, kitten.”

Louis knew the symptoms. He never got sick but Harry would fall prone to ailment once a year at least. The permanently reddened nose, clogged voice and heavy breathing were all sure-fire signs. “I’ll break up with you if you’re lying to me.”

“So you admit we’re-”

“Don’t you dare say it.” Louis glared at the others who were indiscreetly having a merry time of overhearing their argument. He turned back to Harry soon after. “You can’t be sick on your birthday. It’s bad luck.”

“It isn’t.” Harry refuted, bemused. He sounded like someone had run over his larynx with a tractor and rubbed his eyes until they were bloodshot. “I’ll go home and have some of that ginger tea Mom used to make.”

Louis was not convinced and eyed Harry shiftily for the remainder of their conversation, but he resigned in the end. While Harry had nothing left to do for the rest of the day, Louis had a test in an hour and a practical thereafter as their module coordinator hassled to complete their assorted tasks by the time exam period dawned on them. He dumped every belonging except his labcoat and pencil where Harry could take it along when he left for the day.

It was expected when Harry turned around and faced the juvenile snickering of his former fraternity brothers. He stood with a reassigned pool stick propped under his chin until it was his turn; what he didn’t anticipate was Ian’s unwanted remark.

“Why do you let him wear you like that, Haz?” The hulking team member pointed out, straightening after taking his shot. He was not discouraged when the others made varying disapproving sounds about broaching this topic. “He something special?”

Harry is very avid about voice over fists, but that didn’t necessarily outline the limits of his temper. He will take nonsense and bitter gossip about himself at any hour with a laugh, but the subject of Louis is where he drew the line boldly. “Too special for you to understand, Ian.”

There was snorts of derisive humour from the others following Harry’s response. Ian was not so keen, however. “Fuck you, Styles.”

Silence fell on their circle of familiars when Harry took his turn and knocked two balls off the table. “Try not to forget that you play on _my_ team, Ian. On my team, we don’t make statements just to hear our own voices.”

*    *    *    *    *

Louis looked horrified where he sat across from Harry on the balcony, armed with an obnoxiously leaden textbook and highlighter. _“He took a swing at you?”_

“Yeah.” Harry was doodling something on Louis’ ankle that was bound to be disproportionate and poorly figured. “If Alice from Math hadn’t screamed I probably would have had to take it too.”

“Wow.” Louis guffawed. “Did you at least hit him back?”

“No.” Harry scoffed, colouring the wings of his butterfly art. “What would that have done? Coach kicked him off the team all the same.”

Louis capped his neon yellow highlighter before it dried out in the light wind circulating in their vicinity. He pushed his glasses a little further up the bridge of his nose to keep them from slipping off, chewing uneasily on his lip. “Well, thank you uh- for defending me.”

Harry didn’t need gratitude but he smiled upon hearing it anyway. Louis is the most bluntly uncomfortable person around heart-to-heart speech though he probably meant it more than anyone Harry’s ever met. Just because he struggled in verbalising his feelings didn’t mean Louis could not experience them.

He raised his head from concentrating on a little cartoon speech bubble to wink at Louis. “Sure thing, kitten.”

Harry sneezed and the mood was ruined. By nightfall Louis had him sleeping so soundly that the man’s snores were imminent and already filling the room at eight o’clock. Louis has slept in the same bed with Harry for too long to take notice of the noise anymore, a consequence of blocked sinuses that got treated every morning with a nasal spray. He worked at Harry’s desk with a single lamp on until he was falling asleep on his scribbled notes, which was his cue to get into bed as well.

The next day rendered no good news; Harry was still sniffling and coughing with a nose to rival Rudolf’s so he planned to stay home. What proved to be the most pleasant part of his morning was waking up to Louis’ lips wrapped around him under the covers. Harry usually had commendable stamina but his deteriorating condition left him panting after Louis decided to suckle on the tip of his length. He cursed with his fingers buried in Louis’ hair, guiding the boy’s bobbing head as per his preference. Louis is well acquainted with what Harry liked but he allowed himself to led anyway.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath when the struggle to contain his orgasm became visible by the protruding vein in his neck. His hips jerked upward and Louis sucked him down as far he could go, swallowing around the throbbing girth to feel Harry’s resultant shudders. Harry came down Louis’ throat without any warning and much earlier than either of them expected; he was heaving with ragged breaths by the time Louis surfaced from underneath the comforter.

“You’re burning up.” Louis put his hand to Harry’s forehead and neck, worry apparent in his expression.

Harry captured the boy’s hand instead and pulled him down to be spooned. His eyes were half-lidded and he sneezed thrice into the tissue Louis handed him. “I’m fine, kitten.”

“Yeah, and I have a third eye.” Louis wiggled his way to freedom and pulled on a stray shirt he’d discarded last night. “You should take a shower. It might help.”

“No.” Harry planted his head on Louis’ pillow, face down. “Come back to bed.”

Louis didn’t listen. He retrieved vitamin supplements from the kitchen – taking the advice he’s followed for years and doubled the dosage – and brought Harry a hot cup of tea. Harry is the one between them who can cook something decent so Louis asks Gemma to make something before leaving for work. He takes everything back to the bedroom on a tray, complete with the last muffin from the batch the housekeeper bought yesterday.

“You make a pretty wife, kitten.” Harry cajoled from his propped up position on the bed. He looked miserable with teary eyes and long, wheezing drags of air to breathe.

“Call me that again and this tea is going down your pants.” Louis threatened with no real bite to his words. He set the tray down on Harry’s lap before settling down with his legs crossed.

Harry did his embarrassing suggestive eyebrow wag. “Don’t believe I am wearing any pants.”

Louis liberated his own treat from the food assortment, ripping the muffin down its middle so he could consume it in tiny nibbles. “Oh! I got a copy of the college paper. You guys made the front cover with the match last Friday.”

“Thanks, kitten. I’ll take it from you later.” Harry liked keeping a record of all his games, win or lose. He had a majorly sentimental heart. “Guess who called me yesterday?”

“Who?” Louis didn’t do guessing games or suspense in general. He was a massive spoiler fan if he cared enough to ask someone or research it; nothing about the play of events was going to change depending on when he found out about them.

Harry swallowed his bite of buttered toast with a gulp of steaming herbal tea. “Marcus.”

“Really? He’s been MIA for over a year now.”

Marcus is Harry’s first cousin and the only relative that he made an effort to stay in contact with. He was wealthy enough to travel around the world as a freelance photographer and bothered to make a pit-stop by visiting family at least once every two years.

“Yeah.” Harry cleared his throat and set down the warm mug. “He said he’s planning to open a gallery downtown and wants people he trusts to be involved.”

“Does he mean to help him set up?” Louis questioned, licking the melted chocolate remnants off his fingertips.

“He didn’t want to elaborate on the phone.” Harry shrugs noncommittally. “Said to tell you he called and wants to meet at this old dance studio.”

“Alright. As long as he doesn’t spill paint on me again.”

Harry sighed, fond of Louis’ way of twisting fact. “You decided to squeeze the acrylic tubes all on your own, kitten.”

“He enabled me.” Louis argued half-heartedly, suddenly remembering that today is in fact Harry’s birthday. Louis slid off the bed and rushed to get the gift he spent two hours wrapping before rejoining Harry on the bed with a little bounce. “Happy birthday!”

The wince Harry made at Louis’ abruptly sharp volume increase was barely noticeable. He raised an eyebrow at his boy’s suspiciously packaged present, conflicted by the outline of a genital on a platform of some sort. “You got me a dildo?”

Louis didn’t say anything while Harry pried open the tape and tried his best not to tear the paper concealing his newest possession. At first his eyes were all for the eight inch sex toy in its rainbow colouring and unsettling plastic smell, until the surface on which it sat stood out to him. Harry’s vision lit up like he was a little boy getting his first Christmas present and it was possible not to smile with him.

“Fuck kitten.” Harry was in awe as he flipped the sealed vinyl over and traced the creases in its exterior. “How much did this cost?”

All he got was a kiss smothering his cheek and playful dismissiveness. “You let me worry about the money, honey.”

Harry reached over to grasp Louis’ thigh below the hem of his boxers, tugging relentlessly until he gets the boy to lean closer to connect their lips. Louis covers Harry’s mouth with his hand and kisses the back of it instead, giggling to himself when the latter male glowers at such detached treatment. Never has an impending cold marred Harry’s intentions for delivering gratitude so much and he hates that it does with a passion.

*    *    *    *    *

The dance studio Marcus asked them to meet with him at is sandwiched between a Jewish deli and ice cream parlour. Harry’s cold expires after three days and he gets to take Louis along to meet his cousin after that time, eager to be out of the house where the sun can singe off his earlier grogginess. Louis could only stay with Harry for the first day returning to work and classes that demanded his attention.

An undoubtable silver lining of it was that Louis brought him back a double beef cheeseburger on Thursday and barbequed ribs with extra fries on Friday. Harry thinks he proposed after the second one and had Louis hit him in the face with a pillow.

This venue is already a hive of activity by the looks of a moving van parked outside and curious children craning their necks to catch a glimpse of what’s going on. If this truly was a dance studio there’s no external evidence of it now because Marcus had the old signage torn down or scraped off, replaced with crystal glass windows and a heavy steel door.

Harry’s cousin greets them after jogging out onto the sidewalk. Marcus has had the same brunette highlights in his wavy golden hair for as long as Louis can remember. He always has a pair of aviators propped at his hairline and a waistcoat in varying shades of purple over his T-shirts; what is common between him and Harry might be their fondness for overly tight jeans. Both of them have asked Louis at one point or another to keep safe their phones or wallets because neither would fit into their own pockets.

“Harry.” Marcus’ million dollar smile is characteristic of the Styles bloodline. He pulls his cousin into a hug before patting him on the shoulderblade like a father would. When it’s Louis’ turn for a greeting Marcus lifts him off the ground in a tight squeeze between his arms, ignoring Louis’ half-hearted squirming. “How long has it been, Lou?”

“Not long enough, you big bear.” Louis bats his way free to stand independently on the pavement, unable to smother his own pleased expression.

Marcus stands with them alongside the idle vehicles tending to his new gallery venue, enlightening them both on his most gruelling and astonishing ventures overseas. He doesn’t mind when Louis swipes the sunglasses off his forehead and puts them on for himself, an ordinary sign of his boredom. They got a tour of Marcus’ current studio and the flat above it in which he insists on occupying even though Harry offered him the guestroom in his house.

Louis climbs hastily over the ramp railing at the entrance while Harry walks around it. Marcus shows them the space that will be used to display his work in a few weeks to the public. As expected, they got to have hibiscus tea and Twinkies on the rooftop while Marcus proposed what he had in mind.

“I want you two in my gallery.” Marcus announces ambiguously. He watched Louis’ face morph into the poster for confusion. “Not just attend. I want you guys to be part of the artwork.”

Harry braced his hand on Louis’ knee under the table, drumming his fingers to keep them busy. “You want to photograph us, you mean?”

“Exactly.” Marcus sits back in his cushioned garden chair, fingers laced together over his belly. “Would you be willing?”

“I don’t know, Marcus.” Harry had no issue with being behind the camera and appearing in candid photographs for newspaper articles. His disinclination arose when the lens was focused purposely on him.

“I think it could be cool.” Louis heard himself say. He was wide-eyed at his own unhindered readiness. Even Harry glances at him out of the corner of his eye with surprise but Louis merely shrugs. “What?”

Harry sighs, but not exactly from frustration. “What brought this on, Marcus?”

Marcus is more than happy to explain his motivation. “I have been photographing nearly everything that’s beautiful in any country that drew me there, but I’ve come to learn that anything truly remarkable is often intangible.”

“Too many big words, Marcus.” Louis was finishing his favourite packaged treat when he added his criticism.

“My apologies then, Louis.” Marcus laughs, revealing his unusually sharp canines. “What I’m saying is, let me show the world your love. There’s a connection you two have that I did not have the pleasure of witnessing between anyone else.”

“Aw.” Louis cooes, masking the blush on his own face by reaching over to pinch Harry’s cheeks. “We’re connected.”

Harry cracked a benevolent smirk when he grasped Louis’ hand in his to keep the boy from poking one his eyes. “You’ve made this one excited, Marcus. There’s no turning back for us now.”

“Excellent.” Marcus claps his hands together, leaning forward again. “Come see me again tomorrow after the sun has set because I don’t work before that.”

“Of course.” Harry was not oblivious to Louis ‘ fidgetiness, which gave him an idea. “It’s noon right now so why don’t you join us for lunch? My treat. I’ll even call Gemma.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that. Haven’t seen that girl in ages.” Marcus rose from the table at the same time as his guests.

Louis whistled disapprovingly. “Don’t call her a girl if you ever want to have kids.”

*    *    *    *    *

Marcus’ photography studio leaves everything to the imagination. He picked the most expansive room in the establishment to throw white sheets over the windows and pin them on the empty walls. Nightfall made everything more ominous and casted odd caricatures of things on the street onto his floor. There was a table set up beside a spotless tripod that Louis warned himself to stay away from because he’ll never be able to pay Marcus back for damage done.

Harry didn’t expect to do more than stand in front of the camera for a few hours awkwardly until he could go home and recover from the blinding flashes, but Marcus didn’t seem a hurry to get their work done. Louis had taken an apple from Marcus’ miniscule kitchen to nibble on while he bided the time.

“I’m the one who sucks your dick.” Louis refused to jump and demean his own height disadvantage because Harry was holding a desired chocolate bar above his head. “Why are you being mean to me?”

“You cannot get full on snacks.” Harry explained calmly, his lips twisting into a smug chuckle at Louis’ distaste. “The last time I let you do that you couldn’t eat your dinner and got sick in the morning.”

Louis groaned without the slightest hint of volume control. “I’m not a child, Styles.”

“No, kitten. Of course not.” Harry’s free arm circled Louis’ hips and tugged him closer, pecking the boy’s lips. “Still gotta take care of you.”

Louis didn’t get the chocolate bar because Harry tucked it into his back pocket under the tail of his airy silk shirt. His attention was yanked away from the current devastation when some commotion ensued on the street outside. Harry watched him go to the window and lean out of it to observe the argument between strangers. When Louis threatened to shout something at them he ran to collect the boy and cover his mouth just to be safe.

Marcus allows Harry to draw nonchalantly on the furthest wall from the door with chalk. Louis stood at Harry’s side for a minute before he sneezed and scurried off to fidget with Marcus’ belongings. He took eight Polaroid shots of himself making silly faces, all of which he discards except for one.

It was easy to forget about the wasted hours when Marcus sat them down on the floor and engaged them in a conversation to be updated on one another. Harry had Louis fall asleep on his shoulder, his lips slightly parted and fingers twitching whenever something disturbed him. He pressed a kiss to the boy’s forehead by angling his head a little uncomfortably to do so, adjusting his arm out of the way so Louis fell gently against his chest instead. There was nothing life threatening or deathly about Louis when he was asleep; when his sinuses acted up he would drool a little bit from keeping his mouth open.

Harry jumps out of his reverie when a flash goes off and it barely causes Louis to flinch. He finds Marcus lowering his Nikon camera with a selection of stickers scattered across its exterior. “What was that?”

Marcus was smiling to himself when he saves the photograph and flicks the little lever to put the device off. “I’m not surprised you didn’t notice me sooner. You’re very taken with each other.”

Harry is usually very articulate but he’s presently confused with no sign of reprieve. “Huh?”

“I’ve been photographing you two since you arrived.” Marcus leaned back on his elbows, indulging in a private joke. “When you opened his door for him even though he didn’t want you to. When Louis channelled his inner pre-schooler by leaping over a puddle of rain water. The chocolate bar wars. While you graced my walls with your art and he went to town with my Polaroid. This, right now. I got it all.”

“Wow.” Harry was disappointed himself for not recognising the fact that Marcus was visually documenting all of that.

Marcus’ smile softened. “Did you think I was going to put you in front of a camera and capture what’s not genuine? Tut tut, Harry.”

“I don’t give you enough credit, cousin.” The man looked down at Louis’ stirring form, stopping his head from snapping back by cradling Louis’ nape. “He’s going to be a little disappointed though.”

Louis wakes up from his light period of stagnation with a yawn. He’s always soft and harmless, all for Harry’s taking, when he first arises from any form of sleep. Harry smiles warmly down at the drowsy sapphires peering up at him from behind fluttery eyelashes, trailing his fingers down Louis’ throat before fitting his lips against the seam of Louis’. The moment is ruptured when Marcus’ camera flash goes off twice from two feet away.

Unlike what Harry thought, Marcus gave Louis his opportunity to pose as he wished in front of the camera. Harry stayed out of the limelight for as long as possible, standing where he could see the resulting shots and spineless against his own pride for Louis’ absent reservations. He wore no expression most of the time, his eyes hooded and smouldering as he bit his lower lip. Sometimes he’d clap after Louis earned it, chaffed to receive the Nikon from Marcus so he can forge his own compilation of snapshots.

The time comes for them to leave upon their own choice and Harry ignores Marcus’ raucous laughter coupled with continual flashes when he lifts Louis into a fireman carry so they can exit. “I’ll call you sometime tomorrow, yeah? Bye, Marcus.”

Louis echoes him more enthusiastically, waving even from where he’s draped over Harry’s shoulder. “Bye, Marcus!”

*    *    *    *    *

Valentine’s day is not something bothered with – or remembered really – so he was more than a little frazzled when Harry showed up at his door armed with two bouquets of red roses. It was eight in the morning on his and Gemma’s day off so naturally, Harry’s phonecall had woken him up. Louis glowered at the man who looked pretty pleased with himself and considered slamming the door in his face.

“I brought you chocolate.” Harry could sense the direction of Louis’ thoughts and thought he’d whip out the heavy artillery.

Louis resigned to his fate, moving out of the way so Harry could step inside. To his credit, Harry wasn’t wearing more than sweatpants and a T-shirt he’s outgrown so Louis’ hopes for wasting the day by endless napping is still a possibility.

“Why two bouquets?” He asked whilst heading to the kitchen where he’d hunt for a vase. It’s really the one thing he sees every day until he needs it.

Harry set both cellophane wrapped bunches on the counter with the heart-shaped box of chocolates. “The other is for Gems.”

“What’s for me?” His sister walked in looking nearly identical to Louis, disgruntled and horrified by the mobile garden in her kitchen. “Ew Harry. You’re my brother.”

“You have someone planning to give you roses today?” Harry fired back.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Gemma accepted her defeat then, giving her sibling a hug and kiss on his cheek. “You’re the best brother in the whole world.”

Louis winced at his own harshness when he dropped the plastic vase in the sink whilst trying to rinse it out. He snipped the plastic sheets at their ends and unwound them from the ties rose stems so he can arrange them in the neon pink vase. It turns out that Harry wasn’t going to force Louis out from under the safety of his comforter. Louis just got rid of his bedframe’s legs so his mattress sat on the floor in a wooden cradle. He was very keen on rolling around in it with the abundance of sheets he horded.

“Is my Valentine going to make me sleep the entire day?” Harry was removing his sweats and shirt at the dresser. Louis swears Harry was a nudist in another life with how skilful he is at stripping off everything he dons in less than a minute.

“Maybe.” Louis looks at the superhero alarm clock beside his bed, revolted at the digits staring back at him. “Did you wanna do something?”

“Oh we _are_ doing something.” Harry said firmly as he dumped his watch, wallet and keys into the little seashell bowl on Louis’ wardrobe. “We’re going to the opening night of Swan Lake and after that maybe we can just drive a bit.”

“I do like ballet.” Half Louis’ face was blocked by the covers he hid behind. “Maybe you aren’t the worst suitor.”

Harry made an unflattering snort of derision. “Thanks, kitten.”

It’s not an effortlessly accomplished task trying to fall asleep again after one has been disturbed from the initial state of rest. After their fourth night together Harry knew what would subdue a restless, energetic Louis at any given moment. He joined his boy under the haven for forgotten threads and let Louis use his bicep for a pillow. His companion would shiver when Harry brushed a ticklish spot on his neck or elsewhere, turning his face into the crook of the man’s arm so his weakness was not detected. Harry can’t remember when he started to sing but it had to be around the time Louis tangled their legs together.

“Styles. Haz. _Harry._ ” Louis is speaking with his mouth on Harry’s pulse, breathing hotly against the man’s skin. “Babe.”

Harry hums, leaning over his boy and barks out a laugh when he buries his face in Louis’ neck. He aligns their bodies by stretching Louis’ delectable form out, moaning as he sinks his teeth into a bruise he’s left on Louis’ skin earlier. “Yeah, kitten?”

Louis brings Harry down to his level, fitting their mouths together in a deviously intense kiss. He runs his hands up Harry’s chest from his abdomen and frames the man’s face where it hovers above him. “Let’s make a baby.”

Harry’s amusement is interrupted by his duty to nibbling on Louis’ pursed lips. “Sure, kitten. You want a baby right now?”

“Yeah.” Louis releases a shuddery exhale when Harry settles down between his thighs and rolls their hips together. He feels safe enough to let a moan escape him as Harry grinds shamelessly against him. “I want _your_ babies.”

“More than one?” Harry licks a stripe across Louis’ throbbing jugular. He feels his boy tug on his hair with threaded fingers between the curls. “How many babies you want, kitten?”

Louis arched his back so Harry’s arms could slip around his middle, reaching down with one hand to desperately tug on the hem of his shirt. He panted brokenly when Harry forced his shirt away and lowered himself with keen agility, pressing his face into Louis’ subtly perfumed skin. Louis whimpered when Harry’s tongue dipped into his belly button and his calloused fingertips began to work on the knot of his sweatpants.

His jaw was gaping when Harry’s teeth started marking up the taut flesh just above his thigh, smothering his shout of pleasure at the treatment. “All of ‘em. Want to have all your babies.”

*    *    *    *    *

Running around campus because Louis’ marks for two different modules were incorrectly recorded on his profile and the practical demonstrators he had to consult with were unavailable, was getting on Louis’ nerves. He hadn’t eaten all day because he was late for the compulsory morning lectures and had to get this rectified before two in the afternoon, so his conscious was clear when he went in for his shift at work.

Harry’s equally as busy between submitting two written assignments, completing a practical and meeting the team for evening practice. They’d happened by each other in the LAN where Louis was purchasing his printing credits and Harry had met with another student for the work he’d missed when he was ill. It was brief with no contact other than a hurried wave, but neither seemed worried by such curtness.

Louis throws himself into Gemma’s backseat rather than elegantly climbing in at three o’clock, an hour before he has to be at _Jefferson’s B &G. _He changes into his uniform whilst manoeuvring in a confined space to do so, leaving his backpack and books on the seat when they come to a halt in the dimly lit parking lot. Gemma laughs at Louis’ flustered person stepping out of her car, blowing his fringe out of his eyes.

The restaurant section of the bar and grill is already buzzing with life when Louis walks in tying the strings of his apron behind him. He meets Angie in the back for an official hand-over in Earl’s presence, then rushing out to greet  Tony and Jim. Waiting for him on the bar countertop is a bottle of iced tea from Jim, who tells Louis he looks as exhausted as can be.

Their patrons are especially demanding tonight and have Louis rushing back and forth until he had to take his break. Table nine asked for extra ranch with their fries and complained when the quantity of fries was insufficient. Louis had to bring table thirteen soda refills three times and clench his fists rather than yell when they treated him like a mentally incapable server. A girl at table twelve and two much older men at table fifteen tried to hit on him, but only the latter took his dejection in their stride.

Louis couldn’t help his cringe when he accepts the generous tip from the middle-aged men and finds a note advertising them to him as sugardaddies. He would be emotionally numb if he hadn’t experienced mixed feelings – delight, repulsion and masked embarrassment. Tony informed him that he has a responsibility to being flattered even if he doesn’t want to, but Louis assures him he’s doing fine without that.

Earl leaves early and only reveals his reason when Tony hounds him for twenty minutes; he has a saucy date with someone he’s been seeing for a few weeks. All his employees manage to make Earl blush when they applaud him on his way out.

Gemma asks to switch tables when the obnoxious group of trust-fund teenage boys pass one too many comments at her, and begs Louis to give her the table with four construction workers who are always in here at ten o’clock. He is in no mood to tolerate the nonsense from entitled youngsters and makes sure the cashmere-wearing fools know that. Luckily enough, they shut up after Louis’ deathly glare seems to hold more of a threat than they’re prepared to call their fathers to handle.

Jim makes an experimental cocktail when the bar attendees start to only request pints of beer. They’re visually similar to a glittery galaxy and Louis doesn’t feel like having one all to himself so he takes a sip from Gemma’s. It’s wonderful and bound to be overpriced when Earl finds out.

Somewhere between notifying an uptight mother that her son falling on their premises is not their liability and having a drunkard shout about pirate treasure, Louis stumbles on probably the last person he expected to see _ever._ He’s the only person whose eyes widen with shock when Alex, the number eight player of a visiting team from weeks ago, walks in with a herd of his loud buddies.

Watching the lean and mysterious new arrival stand awkwardly at their entrance has Louis rolling his eyes. He sees that Gemma is preoccupied with her tables and decides that he has to tend to them so he puts on his polite, professional smile and greets them at the door.

Alex does look a little surprised to see him even though Louis pays him no mind outside of the usual courtesies. Up close the colour of his eyes are light grey and very unnerving to have focused on Louis. The companions at Alex’s back are dressed in maroon varsity jackets and could easily be the different posters for hairstyles on a barber’s walls. One has silvery locks tied back, the other has a pitch black buzzcut and the third’s golden quiff is the only thing that’s organised about him.

Louis finds them a seat in the last remaining empty table in his section, and hands each of them a laminated menu. He clicks his pen in readiness to take their beverage orders when Alex crushes his façade.

“I know you, don’t I?” He speaks up, bringing everyone at his table to dead silence. Alex neglects his menu in favour of flashing Louis a smile that requires the most amount of effort on his behalf.

Louis takes a deep breath. “No. Can I take your drink orders while you wait?”

Alex persists and his friends look severely triumphed by surprise; he must be one who doesn’t talk much otherwise. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Louis glared daggers at the guy with a buzzcut for the lowering of his gaze. After a year of working here in mid-thigh shorts, he knew how to handle creeps. “Hey! Eyes up here.”

The stranger has the grace to appear ashamed, looking away entirely when Alex delivers him a look that must have uprooted his bravery. Alex turns back to Louis. “He’s sorry. Richard here didn’t learn his manners as early as the rest of us.”

“It’s fine.” Louis nodded tersely. “Beverages?”

Alex resigns from his insistence after that, sitting back with a slouch like a disgruntled child. “Water for me.”

Louis walks away to prepare their drinks and is stopped by Tony when he hides out in the kitchen after delivering the iced water, tap water and two beers to Alex’s party. Alex seems to have given up on making Louis recognise him, which is right up there on the list of best things to happen today.

Tony catcalls when he sees Louis take a seat on a sealed box of cutlery. “Who’s the hunk giving you all kinds of looks out there?”

Louis groans audibly and miserably. “Alex. He’s on the rugby team from another university.”

“ _Oh, sugar._ ” Tony peeks out of the opening in the wall to watch Alex brooding at his table while his friends chat aimlessly. “He’s a twelve out of ten and I’ve seen some of the best twelve’s.”

“He’s all yours.” Louis wished Alex didn’t make him so uncomfortable; meeting new people is usually a mechanical process for him but this particular acquaintance made Louis want to run and hide. “You got my nachos and chilli fries ready?”

Louis manages to get everyone in his section out the door before twelve even with a second drunkard’s act of turning on the jukebox so everyone started dancing. Gemma and Louis handled their tables whilst trying to not be swept into the hyped crowd, laughing to themselves when they’re twirled by Jim or dipped without permission by Tony. He even stops by Alex’s table to check on them when he’s on a high from the spirited energy in the room; it’s much less challenging to ignore any disconcertion from the latter’s gaze.

It’s the most pleasant surprise when Harry walks in amidst the impromptu festivities. Louis spots him from where he’s cleaning up the vacant booths and stops in his task to greet Harry. Harry looks warm and welcoming in his joggers, training shoes and bulky jacket; his hair is tied back in a bun but a few stubborn ringlets have broken free.

“Hey there kitten.” Harry’s lips curl into a trademark smirk when Louis rushes over to him, planting a quick peck on the boy’s mouth. “Thought I’d come bring you home.”

“Playing a knight in shining armour is new territory, Styles. Tread lightly.” Louis takes Harry’s hand and guides him through the scattered tables to his station.

Harry ends up helping Louis finish with his closing up tasks just so he can take his boy away early maybe. He’s oblivious to Alex the entire time and well past the time when Louis takes them their check, accepting his tip from the ringleader himself.

“You gotta _indulge,_ sugar.” Tony walks out of the kitchen when they close down the restaurant section and Louis sits at the bar with the reconciliation of his checks. He slides a plate of his newest invention to Louis and Gemma. The triple chocolate pancakes look far too tempting for a midnight snack.

Louis is not one to turn down food drenched in syrup and whipped cream. He takes a bite with one of the four plastic forks and lights up with the moan it elicits from him. “That’s really good, Tony.”

Tony winks at the boy and goes on to feed Jim just because it would make the latter male very uncomfortable. Gemma slaps her knee laughing when Jim sputters from the utensil scraping the back of his throat and Tony making a side-eyed shameless remark. If they weren’t so comfortable around each other, the situation might have been very much more chaotic and tense.

Harry walks back in from whatever he handled outside, taking a seat next to Louis where he can clasp the boy’s thigh. Tony sees him enter and whistles without modesty, rendering both Louis and Gemma catatonic with laughter at Harry’s familiar reception of the treatment.

“Hey there, thirteen.” Tony saunters off shortly after his greeting.

Harry looks taken aback by the unexplained petname. “Thirteen?”

Gemma hasn’t stopped her wild cackling but Louis cares enough to pause and smack his lips against Harry’s cheek. “You’re a thirteen out of ten.”

*    *    *    *    *

A change of scenery could only be exceptional in Louis’ opinion, so in the middle of his study session he packed up and went out to the garden without a word. Harry followed him out there just to make sure Louis wasn’t planning a bonfire for all his books, before disappearing indoors again. He got two bottles of water out of the fridge, got slapped with a dishtowel for messing up Gemma’s hair and went back outside.

In a moment of epic clarity, Louis sat back against the tree trunk and looked at Harry expectantly. “You wanna move in together?”

Harry spat his water out all over his shirt and the less unfortunate grass. He was dumbstruck by the outrageous suggestion for a moment before recovering. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”

“Yeah.” Louis appeared to be offended but it barely lasted. “You got a problem with that, Styles?”

“No. Of course not.” In all honesty, Harry was a little off-put because he wanted to be the one who asked first. “Didn’t think you’d bring it up, is all.”

Louis eyed him suspiciously before answering. “You’re so obvious, you know that? Fine, go ahead and ask me first.”

Harry didn’t have it in him to be truly affronted so he made his way over to Louis and pulled him onto his lap. He spoke in a heated whisper against Louis’ clavicle. “Kitten?”

“Yes, Harry?” Louis blinked up innocently at him, really hamming it up. “Oh dear, this is serious. You look-”

“Shh, my little drama queen.” Harry cuts off Louis’ exaggeration by uniting their lips and keeping them there for a long moment, swiping his tongue over the seam of thin, pink cushions. “Why don’t you move in with me?”

Louis blew his fringe out of his eyes, pretending to think with frustrating intent. “Oh I don’t know. This is so _unexpected_.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Harry is smiling so broadly that it must hurt his face and Louis gets up on his knees to make grabby hands at the man.

It’s not something that was not in their future at all as an inseparable pair of hearts. Louis could hide it all he wanted but he was t _hrilled_ and Harry didn’t even bother with masking it. He couldn’t wait to have Louis’ shoes discarded at random spots in _their_ home and wake up every morning knowing his boy wouldn’t be returning to another roof later. Harry could remain excited for the rest of his existence because Louis granted him this privilege.

“Wait.” Louis sobers after he realises that they don’t in fact live in their own private bubble. “What about Gemma?”

“I’ll be fine!” Harry’s sibling shouted from the patio where she’d come to a halt after overhearing them.

“She’ll be fine.” Harry reiterates, smoothing the back of Louis’ shirt when the boy gets comfortable on his lap again. “Gems can keep your shared apartment if she wants and you’ll move in here with me.”

Louis would have wanted to start fresh in their own flat but finances were putting them in a bind. Renting a new place will be taxing on their incomes while this house is already paid off by Harry’s parents. “Why can’t she move in here too?”

“Because you two are gross and I love that apartment!” Comes the female third voice from inside the house again.

“Quit eavesdropping!” Louis screamed back at her, turning red in the face from the physical exertion coupled with his earlier ecstasy. “I think I love that idea, Styles. Let’s do it.”

**Author's Note:**

> First fic where I didn't do a thing to stop myself from going overboard, and I am INSANELY proud of it. I love the lightheartedness and depth of a relationship that isn't tainted by dark themes like my other works. Also, this story is very personal in the sense that I let quite a bit of myself come through via Louis' character. I hope it's as impressive to you as it is to me o.O please leave your thoughts below.
> 
> Instagram @sumans98


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